My barefootedness is an issue. The boots would have quickly rubbed my feet raw again, so I didn’t put them back on. I took care to walk along the softest parts of the riverbank, but still they’re sore and sensitive. They shouldn’t be a problem for long, though, not once Aren is gone and I can use the cell phone that’s burning a hole in my back pocket. I haven’t had an opportunity to make a call yet. Aren hasn’t strayed from my side once since we left the car.
Sosch’s coat is completely silver now. He chirps and then scurries back and forth along the bank. If I don’t look directly at the spot in front of him, I can see the blur in the atmosphere.
“We’re here,” Aren says. He keeps a tight hold on my hand after he presses the anchor-stone into it, then he carefully steps to the edge of the river and dips his palm into the water. I sense the gate before the light trickles between his fingers. Edarratae, dozens of them, flash to life, darting over his deltoids, across his firm chest, and following one side of the V that dives from his lower abs down to his . . .
I realize where I’m staring, tear my gaze away.
Aren looks back at me. “You ready?”
It would be such an easy betrayal to melt into his warmth. It’s tempting. Aren, the son of Jorreb, the Butcher of Brykeld, could be my rebound guy. He could kiss me and touch me and do all the things I’ve wanted Kyol to do. He could fill the hole in my heart.
Until I give him the Sidhe Tol. What happens after he gets what he wants from me?
“McKenzie?”
This is ridiculous. I don’t trust him, and even if—if!—Kyol agreed to a life-bond with Jacia, Atroth is still the rightful king of the Realm. The Court fae have saved my life dozens of times. They take care of me. I will not let Aren make me forget that.
Without warning and with all the strength I have, I yank back on my hand. Aren’s grip slips, but his other hand is quick. He grabs me by the nape of the neck and pulls me against his chest.
“No.” The growl rumbles against my cheek. His heartbeat thumps in my ear. “You don’t want to go, McKenzie. You’re running from me out of habit.”
“I’m not.”
“If you’d bend your will just a little.”
“No!” That’s how it starts, a little give here, a little give there, until I’ve given everything to him. I push away. He lets me take a step back but takes a tight hold on my wrists.
He sighs. “This fissure . . . it might not be comfortable.”
“They never are,” I retort.
“I’ve lost a lot of blood. My magic isn’t strong. I’ll take on as much of the drain as I can, but it’ll be hard on you. Hold tight to the stone and to me. It’ll be over quickly.”
He holds both my wrists in one hand and then holds out his arm. “Sosch. Up,” he says in Fae. The kimki leaps to his forearm, then to his shoulders. As soon as Sosch is settled, Aren pulls me into the ice.
No, not ice. Fire. My body convulses when we step into the In-Between. I nearly lose my grip on him. Everything is wrong at once. I’m outside my skin, not floating but falling. Falling fast. Fissures are supposed to be filled with piercing white light, but this one isn’t. Everything here is black. All black.
TWELVE
MY DOORBELL RINGS. They’re early. Great.
I run a brush through my hair, wondering yet again why I let Paige talk me into a double date. I should be studying or sleeping or doing any number of things other than going to dinner and some dance club with a guy I don’t know. Besides, I’m not feeling quite . . . right.
I try to shake the fog from my mind as I toss my brush on the couch and walk to the door.
“Hey!” Paige says when I open the door. She bounces on her toes, causing her beach-blond hair to swing just above her shoulders. It’s shorter than usual because she’s twisted small tendrils into thin braids, braids that are pulled and twisted in a dozen different directions. On me, the style would look like one gigantic rat’s nest. On Paige, it’s some kind of organized chaos—edgy and sublime.
“Hey,” I return, just as an electric thrum tingles across my skin. It takes everything in me not to turn around to see who’s fissuring into my living room. My guess is it’s Kyol. Fabulous timing.
“This is Ben,” Paige says, nodding to one of the two guys on my porch. “And you know John.”
I don’t know John. The boyfriend I met last month was called Mark or Matt or something like that.
“I’m McKenzie.” I shake Ben’s hand. He has a strong grip, a nice tan, and, as promised, a killer smile.
“I told you he’s hot,” Paige says at the same time a voice behind me says, “I’ll come back later.”
I give a little shake of my head to answer Kyol. The world moves more than it should. Weird. It takes a few seconds for it to settle. That’s when I notice Ben’s raised eyebrow and Paige’s frown.
“I mean, yeah. I was just . . . remembering I forgot something.”
“No problem, psycho,” Paige says, dragging her date inside. “I forgot to call ahead to the restaurant.”
“Um.” I look over my shoulder, see Kyol standing at the far end of my couch. His edarratae flicker a little more than usual—nothing too serious—but it’s hard not to reach out and turn off the living room lights.
“I’ll come back later,” he says again.
I motion Ben inside. “I need to run to the restroom.”
“Hurry,” Paige says as she picks up my phone.
Kyol’s gaze lingers on Ben before he follows me to the bathroom. When I close the door behind us, it’s dark. Too dark. I rub my eyes until my vision clears. I almost wish it didn’t. A jagged bolt of lightning flashes across an expressionless face. He’s never this closed off when we’re alone.
“I just met him,” I say. “Paige talked me into a double date and . . .”
His eyes soften. “No, it’s okay. You should see your own kind.”
“That doesn’t mean I want to.”
“Neither do I,” he says quietly.
“But you should, too?” It’s a stupid question. Of course he should. We both know this can’t go on forever. The king will find out. Some other fae will be assigned to escort me when I read the shadows. Kyol assured me the worst that will happen to him is that he’ll lose his position as Atroth’s sword-master, but I think there’s more to it than that, more he doesn’t want me to know about.
“There are reasons I should,” he says. “And a reason I shouldn’t.”
The way he’s looking at me makes my stomach flip. I wonder if there’s any way I can get out of this date. I can tell Paige I’m sick. It wouldn’t be a complete lie—I do feel disoriented.
“I’ll tell Radath you’re busy,” Kyol says.
I sigh. Never mind. Kyol won’t let me out of it. “Radath won’t like that.”
“No,” he agrees.
The lord general expects me to be at his beck and call, go where he wants, when he wants, no matter how dangerous it might be. Sometimes I wonder how much hell Kyol gets when he makes excuses for me.
He opens a fissure. The bright light makes me squint, and a sharp lance of pain strikes behind my eyes. I rub my forehead until it goes away.